


blind, caged, tricked

by thorvaenn



Category: Thor (Movies)
Genre: Accidental Non-Con, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Ambiguous/Open Ending, Angst, Arranged Marriage, Depression, M/M, Mind Control, Mind Control Aftermath & Recovery, Rape/Non-con Elements, Sad Ending, Wedding Night
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-08
Updated: 2017-10-08
Packaged: 2019-01-10 16:51:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,420
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12303405
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thorvaenn/pseuds/thorvaenn
Summary: Despite his misgivings, Thor is willing to seek happiness in his marriage to the Jotun prince.Everything suggests that so is Loki.





	blind, caged, tricked

**Author's Note:**

> I blame [this Ragnarok article](http://led-lite.tumblr.com/post/164918329394/okay-first-we-had-tessa-thompson-talkin-loki) that mentions obedience disks and [Bucky](http://curds-and-wheyface.tumblr.com) who came up with the best prompt based on that. 
> 
> I also apologize for having blatant narrative kinks that I can never seem to stop writing. Hopefully you will accept this as autumn gloomy angsty offering - notice the tags and also please be aware that this is it, no sequels or continuation.
> 
> Hope you will enjoy!

He thought he could fight it.

 

All the way here, the charm burning angrily against his chest, forcing him to stay ahorse, he thought he could fight it. But the force hammering at his skull was too much. _Stay. Be quiet. Say yes at the appropriate times. Don't run._ Before he knew it, he was wedded and seated next to Thor, the cloud slowly lifting. He regained the feeling in his limbs. He knew that he could get up, run, the way he couldn't before, but what was the point? He was in a crowded hall, surrounded not only by the people who forced him here, but by his new owners too. And he was still collared.

 

He picked up a pitcher, his mind barely registering it before he was neatly filling up Thor's goblet.

 

He sat down, feeling his new _husband's_ smile brightening the room next to him.

 

 _No_.

 

* * *

 

“This is going splendidly, my friend, is it not?” Fandral whispers into Thor's ear when he comes to the high table to congratulate him, hiding his teasing remark under the guise of a brief shoulder clasp.

 

Thor laughs in reply, inwardly agreeing.

 

Certainly better than expected. The idea of marrying a Jotun of all people has weighted heavily on him in the past months, but now that the wedding party has arrived, cloaked in furs to fend of the northern cold they seemed to bring with them, he cheered up considerably.

 

His bride, for one, is not only beautiful, he is also vastly more agreeable than he thought possible.

 

The Jotnar are large people, bulky and unpleasant, roughened by the uninviting climate of their land, but _Loki_ is truly a prize, nearly as tall as Thor but with long legs and shapely arms. His skin is pale, not surprising considering the long winters and short, cold summers of Jotunheim, but his hair is black and long, luxurious, cascading over his shoulders in weaves and braids.

 

Thor's mouth goes a little dry when he looks at him.

 

Next to him, Loki stirs, reaching for a pitcher and pouring Thor more mead with a flicker of a shy smile.

 

Thor thanks him and drains his drink. He ought to be careful. This is only the beginning of their marriage, surely it is easy to put up appearances for such a short amount of time, here in a hall where every eye is on them. The Aesir and Jotnar have been enemies for a long time. There are many who expect this joining between Thor and Loki not to go well – Thor knows, as he has counted himself among those doubting.

 

The celebration is long and growing wild. Thor considers taking his leave. Surveying the hall, he feels that many have already forgotten – or stopped caring – why they are here, the generously provided mead and spirits aiding them.

 

Next to him, Loki offers his hand, likely coming to the same conclusion. Together they rise and pay their respects to Odin, who is deep in his cups but quiet.

 

Thor has no expectations of his wedding night. Loki will be tired and even so – he is new in this land, in this _life._ But it is nice still to arrive at Thor's chambers and find the fire roaring, the rooms cleaned and prepared for them. The effort to be welcoming is visible, undoubtedly something he can thank his mother for.

 

It's a bit hot and he reaches for his collar, wanting to disrobe out of the outer layer of his garments, only to have his fingers pushed away by long, cool ones.

 

Slowly, Loki draws the strings out and Thor's furred cape falls away. This is certainly... unexpected. As is the way Loki remains close, palms splayed over the tunic that stretches over Thor's chest. _Unexpected_ , but very welcome all the same.

 

Daringly, he cups Loki's face, smoothing his curls back, tilting his face to take a better look. He is a bit flushed which only accentuates his cheekbones and Thor longs to see his eyes. Then Loki looks up, green gaze a bit unreadable.

 

Thor smiles.

 

“Forgive me for being so blunt, but I must say this night has exceeded my expectations.”

 

Hopefully he is not a disappointment to Loki either. He is not self-conscious, but it would sting to be found wanting by his new spouse.

 

“Mine too,” Loki murmurs. Thor is already growing fond of his voice, as rarely as he has heard it so far.

 

He pauses, trying to figure out where to go from here. Where this morning the wedding night was entirely insignificant to him, the importance of it is growing in his mind. But he won't push. He wouldn't.

 

But surely it won't hurt to return the favour and help Loki disrobe, at least his outer garments. In fact, it would be rude not to; Loki is not here to wait on him. They are meant to be equals.

 

Loki's cape is soft and heavy in Thor's hands as he draws it off. He will stop here and they will step to the opposite sides of the room to get ready for bed – for sleeping.

 

And they do. Thor tries to breathe as he undresses down to his undergarments, growingly aware of how much he has drunk. It's more noticeable now in the quiet of the rooms than it was in the feasting hall.

 

He sees Loki from the corner of his eye, slim figure clad in dark silk and unbidden, and he wishes for a glimpse of that pale skin he imagines the expensive cloth hides. Aware of the inappropriateness of his thought, he keeps his eyes on the floor as he slips into bed.

 

He lies on his back, forcing himself to stare up at the ceiling.

 

Beside him, the bed dips and sheets rustle. His head turns automatically and – Loki is naked, kneeling on the bed with an uncertain look, arrested in motion. Thor takes him in all at once – pale skin turned creamy by the candlelight, lightly muscled limbs, smattering of black hair between his thighs. While he undressed, he didn't remove his jewellery and thin necklaces with gems and pendants hang between two dusky dark nipples.

 

The desire hits Thor like a punch in the gut. This is his bride. His new husband. And he's unlike anyone Thor has ever been with, but by the gods, he is beautiful. Thor wants him.

 

He clears his throat, unsure what to say about Loki's nakedness. In a way, he has made up his mind – he won't ask for intimacy that the two of them, strangers, needn't share. But he also has to admit he feels desire. Hope for the future, he would call it, except somehow his cock is hardening _right now._

 

Thor wouldn't be the one to reach out first. But Loki shuffles even closer, sliding down the bed to press himself against Thor's side, hand tentatively caressing Thor's exposed skin.

 

He longs for more of it, for long, easy nights between them that don't carry this tension, this weight. He doesn't want to be responsible for the choices of this night, he wants it all to come naturally, two bodies coming together in pleasure, without politics hanging heavily in the background.

 

He touches Loki's face again, watching the dim lights dance across the lovely planes of it. His mouth...

 

His mouth is now gently pressed against Thor's and he melts into it, doubts fading with every second. If Loki wants this – if he comes to Thor warm all over, naked, parted lips sealing against Thor's – then Thor can want this too.

 

He would suspect a game, if only Loki weren't so quiet. He can envision his new husband wanting to gain Thor's trust, to find a place in his life and his voice at Thor's ear, but he has been almost silent, the main impression of him remaining in his beauty and in the hot, almost chaste touches and kisses he bestows on Thor. Those must be true, Thor decides. Those are honest. A liar would try to sweeten their situation, worm himself into Thor's opinion. Loki does none of it, he simply _is,_ simply wants.

 

And Thor does as well.

 

He winds his arms around Loki's waist, pulling their bodies flush together.

 

“I didn't hope we would be,” he has to whisper, “that we would be like this. But your beauty is enchanting and your desire is irresistible.”

 

Gods, how he hopes he is not laughable to him. That he feels the same.

 

“I... find you that as well,” Loki tells him lowly before lowering his mouth to Thor's in a gentle, growingly heated kiss. Just the way Thor likes it.

 

Emboldened, Thor dares to roll on top of Loki, kissing down his neck. Loki's pulse is fluttering underneath Thor's lips and Thor feels himself rousing in response, charmed by the proof of desire returned.

 

He will be sure to worship his new husband, pleasure him, shower him in attention. He hopes this gamble pays off for the both of them and that they will enjoy tonight. Thor is already half-way there, stiff cock pressing against the confines of his underthings where he rubs it against the hot, lean expanse of Loki's thigh.

 

He doesn't want to feel like he is pressing this situation with assumptions. He moves to roll them around until his own back is pressed to the mattress and Loki is sprawled on top of him, free to do as he likes... even though Thor has several lovely ideas bouncing around in his still slightly fuzzed, drunk mind.

 

Loki kisses him, nipping at his bottom lip before moving down to bite ever so lightly at Thor's neck, just the way he likes it. It makes Thor sigh and squirm, blush spreading down his chest. Loki palms his chest, nimble fingers finding Thor's nipples and playing with them. Thor's eyes almost roll back with pleasure. Barely any of his previous partners ever did this; he is so, so sensitive there, but for some reason almost no one thought to try. Until Loki. Thor feels more drunk on pleasure than on mead now. Could he truly be blessed with someone so attentive, so good to him?

 

He makes a point of not simply lying back and getting lost in a haze of his own lust, he tries to caress and rouse Loki in turn, his hands learning Loki's curves, finding his sensitive spots, figuring out what makes him sigh and gasp. It's not easy – it's not easy at all, because in some ways Loki is as quiet and almost shy as he was since the minute they met, but every time Thor thinks he has discovered something, every time he puts his mind to finding out what reaction his husband will have, he succeeds. Perhaps they are truly meant to be.

 

The thought spurs Thor on, filling him with confidence that if they _try_ , they really can be happy together, not just upon the marital bed, but outside of it as well.

 

He helps Loki remove his undergarments and then they are finally naked together, skin pressed to skin, hot and slippery in the warm air of the room. Thor loves it. He loves love-making, he always has, and this is unlike any he has ever known, the gravity of it hanging above them, because this is no tumble in the sheets; this is their wedding night. It would be sacred, if either of them were terribly religious and even though they likely are not, Thor still knows what the gods preach – the importance of marriage and especially of marriage among royalty, among nobility. They could be vessels for grand – godly – plans except Thor doesn't feel like a vessel, he feels like a man, blood pulsing with need.

 

He would be gratified to merely feel the answering hardness in Loki, to have them rub against each other and find release in a simple manner but once they are both hard like this, kissing deeply, he doesn't quite want to let go the idea of doing more, _giving_ each other more. Perhaps he thought about this all wrong and ignoring the spark between them would be ungrateful and a show of insulting indifference. Loki is a Jotun, yes, he is of people that Thor has held mistrust towards his entire life, but that doesn't mean he will let it get in the way of his happiness.

 

And right now, it indeed seems like they can make each other happy. He explores Loki's body, kissing everywhere he can reach, rousing him and being pleasured in turn, smooth hands wrapping around his cock just as the need for friction becomes too much.

 

He pulls their bodies closer together and Loki slides off until they are lying on their sides, facing each other, kissing with abandon and stroking themselves.

 

“Will you do me the honour? Let me take you?” Thor asks, caressing the insides of Loki's thigh. He wants it so much.

 

“Yes,” is his simple, quietly moaned reply.

 

Oil has been readied for them, customarily. The simple act of readying themselves for this becomes erotic in his mind and he shivers as he unstoppers the bottle. He turns to find Loki on his hands and knees, legs spread wide, exposing everything to Thor's eyes, just the way he enjoys his lovers presenting themselves to him, though many are too shy to do so.

 

Loki shows no hesitance now, and Thor likes that too. Grinning, he kneels behind his husband and begins to prepare him.

 

* * *

 

His skin is still tingling with pleasure even though it's been long minutes since they finished their last bout and he has yet again spilled deep inside Loki, spurred on the by gorgeous, unrestrained moans in his ear. He's not sure he has ever felt this sated. Or that he ever had a partner so well attuned to everything he wanted.

 

They sprawl together on the bed and Thor listens to the silence that is interrupted only by their breathing and the crackle of the fire. Lazily, he turns his head to the side. Loki is on his back, legs thrown where they fell after Thor pulled out, his chest and stomach shiny with streaks of his own spend. His necklaces form a choker around his throat where the pendants slipped down towards the bed. Thor runs his finger over the delicate chains, loving the way they add edge to Loki's appearance.

 

Loki's eyes are closed but lips parted and Thor wishes, yet again, to hear him speak. The passion of the evening had been explosive but, sated as he is, Thor has to remember it was only the beginning.

 

Loki opens his eyes and looks straight at him as though reading his mind. His throat bobs as he swallows.

 

“Should we perhaps bathe?” Loki suggests, hand coming up to press Thor's more firmly to where he is still toying with Loki's necklaces. He didn't even realize he was doing it.

 

Thor smirks down at their sweaty, spill-covered skin. “Definitely.”

 

As the rooms were, the bath is prepared for them too. Aware that Loki might be unfamiliar with the particular workings of how the water is kept hot, Thor goes to work, settling everything for them until all that is left to do is step into the bathtub and stretch together.

 

The room is illuminated and warmed by its own fireplace and the steam hovering above the bathtub promises a truly relaxing soak. Loki surveys the room as he does so and surprises Thor by picking up some of the bottles that line the shelves, sniffing them and handing them to Thor.

 

Thor usually forgoes the overscented oils, but if Loki wishes to try them, he is more than happy to oblige, pouring them in.

 

“Wait,” he stops Loki when he makes to step into the bathtub. “Your jewellery.”

 

Loki turns to him, face yet again oddly blank and Thor hopes he hasn't offended. He tries to remember if he knows anything about Jotnar culture when it comes to adornments – are they important? Does Loki never take them off?

 

But Loki just tilts his head at him, waiting.

 

“It might get damaged by the oils,” Thor explains himself, feeling a little flustered. He tries to cover it up by stepping towards Loki and reaching out to undo the first of the many clasps. They are tiny and it takes him a while. Loki makes no move to assist him, but his gaze is firmly trained on Thor's face.

 

There must be significance to this, he's sure now. Loki's stillness is borderline unnatural but when Thor brushes his neck with his hand, he feels his pulse pounding. He can't stop now but at the very least he can conduct himself so that he is worthy of the intimacy he guesses Loki is affording him.

 

He works his way through the necklaces with the utmost care, placing them on a side table, one by one. The last one is the shortest, framing Loki's collarbones. The chain is a little thicker than the rest was, and the pendant is perfectly round, like a coin, though Thor can't make out the markings on it.

 

The clasp comes apart under his fingers after a drawn out moment and he pulls back, smiling.

 

His smile quickly disappears when Loki gasps, one hand pressing against his chest. It's like his entire body suddenly came alive; gone is the stillness. He's shivering.

 

Thor's shock makes his attempt to speak unsteady. He tries to reach out, not understanding what he sees. “Are you-”

 

Loki grabs at him and Thor is yelping in pain before he can react. Shocked, he raises his hand and looks down at the line of blood raising on his palm. The necklace. Loki has snatched the necklace from Thor's hand so violently that the chain cut him. With two steps, Loki is by the fireplace, tossing the necklace into the flames.

 

Thor steps back, awareness coming to him, along with a sense of danger. He has done exactly what he knew he shouldn't. Let his guard down.

 

They stare at each other from across the room.

 

Despite having only known him for several hours, Thor knows that the man he is looking at is not the same.

 

“What was that?”

 

“Don't come near me,” Loki growls in lieu of reply. Even his voice is different. Deeper. Angry.

 

Thor raises his bloody palm to show it to Loki. “I was not the one to turn to violence.”

 

“Violence,” Loki repeats slowly, not even glancing at Thor's hand. “You...”

 

Suspicion warring with regret inside him, Thor tries to remain calm. “I am sorry if I overstepped my bounds by touching your jewellery.”

 

“Touching my...” Loki doesn't finish, instead he turns pale with frightening speed and bends at the waist, vomit splattering over the floor.

 

A chill is creeping up Thor's spine. He would like to step in for comfort, but Loki's warning is still ringing in his ear.

 

“Tell me what's wrong,” he says instead, unsure if he's ordering or pleading.

 

“Leave me be,” Loki spits, wiping his mouth. “I will bathe alone.”

 

Thor shakes his head, mostly to himself and slowly makes his way towards the fireplace. Loki moves away when he does and Thor casts a wary glance at him before crouching to examine the flames.

 

The pendant is still visible, already melting in the heat. A soft metal, then. Thor fishes it out with a poker and dumps it into a pitcher of cold water.

 

“ _No_ ,” Loki all but yells at him though he makes no move to come closer.

 

“Why?” Thor implores. “I didn't mean to offend. What is it with this necklace that matters so much? Why destroy it?”

 

“It's not a necklace, you pig-headed brute, it's a charm. A _collar_.”

 

“A charm,” Thor repeats, a little sceptical. Magic is... not unknown, but it is as antiquated practice, generally considered too weak and useless to bother with.

 

He's tired. It was a long day and he's worn himself out in the most pleasant way only to have it all turn on its head. The slow tendrils of happiness that were already making their way into his heart are gone, lost before they had a chance.

 

“Did you really think that I would come here willingly?” Loki asks, voice trembling. “My father is as stupid as he is cruel.”

 

Thor looks at the pitcher. The pendant is there, cooling at the bottom. A _charm._

 

“What did it do?” he asks even if he suspects he won't like the answer.

 

“They never would have managed to bring me here without it,” Loki says viciously. “And you certainly wouldn't- I would not-”

 

It's frightening, the way he clearly means to yell and curse at Thor but his voice trails off, too shaky to form words.

 

Thor steps back blindly, bumping into a shelf and sending vials crashing down to the floor.

 

The whole evening. The whole night. The acquiescence that he took for shy want. Hours of coupling, bodies joined; him, taking Loki. Over and over again.

 

He never planned to do it.

 

“But I didn't-”

 

“Yes, you did,” Loki forces out in a furious whisper. “Every single one of your perverted thoughts ringing through my head, controlling me. You did.”

 

The weight of the accusation crashes down onto his head and all he can do is flee.

 

* * *

 

Alone, blessedly alone, Loki locks and barricades the door as well as he can manage before practically running into the bath, submerging himself in the heated water and scrubbing himself clean.

 

Breathing. Breathing feels good. He can breathe at will, his lungs aren't constantly constricted with the fear that they might be ordered to stop.

 

His body aches in ways that make his eyes prickle with tears. The taste of vomit is more welcome than the taste of strange sweat and seed.

 

He gags again. He can't think about that.

* * *

 

_A year later_

 

* * *

 

Sometimes Thor wants to ask _why are you still here?_

 

No guards are keeping Loki. He can go as he pleases; he's a respected, if not well-liked consort of the prince.

 

From the little Thor knows about him, his craftiness stands out. It couldn't be too hard to flee.

 

He enters their chambers after a long day, exhausted and moody. It has been raining for days and while Thor usually enjoys all of nature's vices, he is starting to worry for his people. Flooding, rotting crops...

 

Loki sits in the window seat, a blanket over his lap, a forgotten book next to him as he stares out of the window at the downpour.

 

“Good day,” Thor murmurs. Loki only briefly nods in reply, not even turning.

 

Thor wouldn't expect him to. He knows how hard it sometimes is for him to look at Loki, to remember that cursed night, remember losing himself in his body, touching and being touched, all the while oblivious to the violation he was causing. He can't imagine what it must be like for Loki.

 

He is about to leave, wash the grime of the day off and retire for the night, but a glint of something stops him. There is a warped, circular piece of metal sitting on the bench next to Loki's book.

 

Thor approaches and picks it up. Last time he saw it, it was blackened by flames, but someone – Loki – must have polished it almost back to its previous gleam.

 

“It will not work again, do not get your hopes up,” Loki says faintly, still staring out of the window.

 

Thor curls his fist, feeling the metal dig into the skin of his palm.

 

“I wish it never did work in the first place.”

 

“So you've said.”

 

“And you have never believed me,” Thor replies, bitterness finding its way into his voice even though he knows it's not fair. This is dangerous. This is more words than they've exchanged in private in _months_.

 

“You're wrong to assume that your intentions are of any consequence to me.”

 

“Is my _pain_ of any consequence to you?” The ill-advised words are forming before he can stop them and Loki turns to face him. His movements are slow, guarded. They always are around Thor.

 

“You wish to talk to me about your pain?”

 

“No,” Thor shakes his head. “No, I don't. You're right. That was a mistake.”

 

“Wait, now I am interested,” Loki says, lips curling in clear disgust, eyes flashing darkly. “Tell me all about it.”

 

Thor can see himself apologizing again and walking away; it would be the correct choice, it would be what he has been doing in the past year. But something else makes him stay. The exhaustion of the day, his father's declining health, even the miserable weather. Something inside of him snaps.

 

“I didn't force this on you,” he snaps, tossing the pendant to the ground where it bounces. “I thought you wanted me. The ones to blame here are your kinsmen. Your own father.”

 

“And you weren't suspicious in the slightest,” Loki scoffs. The room darkens around them as yet another thick, low cloud glides over the castle, sending droplets bouncing off the windows. “You didn't want to see. You were happy with my perfect obedience. You made me do things-”

 

And this is why they never speak of it.

 

It's too much. The memories are still vivid in his mind and his momentary anger passes, replaced once again by the steely cage of guilt he is so used to.

 

Loki, too, doesn't seem to want to continue. His shoulders sag and he brings the blanket closer to himself. Thor hears the softest sigh. Neither of them truly have the energy to be angry.

 

“I'm sorry for disturbing you,” Thor murmurs. “I will be sure to give you your space.”

 

A nod again, then Loki picks up his book.

 

Thor only lingers briefly to find where the pendant has landed after his outburst and when he finds it, he places it on a table before leaving quietly.

 

* * *

 

 

Hearing the door close, Loki jumps from his seat, rushing to snatch the pendant up, exhaling in relief when he wraps his fingers around it. It's still here. He still has it.

 

It was laughable to hear Thor say it has pained him to control Loki.

 

When he finally, _finally,_ figures out how to active the charm again, it will not hurt Loki to bring Thor to heel.

 

It will not hurt him at all.

 

 


End file.
